


Goro, Or Nothing

by goblin



Category: SMAP
Genre: Awkwardness, Cats, Denial, F/M, Fantasizing, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-10
Updated: 2010-04-10
Packaged: 2017-11-19 00:52:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goblin/pseuds/goblin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Nakai becomes inappropriately obsessed with fantasising about Goro, and Goro is deliciously seductive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goro, Or Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> Some of you may notice this is a kind of AU branching off from the point when Shingo won the Love Awards and got to make _Terote Arena_. Not that it’s terribly important.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** This is entirely the product of my own fevered imagination and is in no way intended to represent, misrepresent or indeed say anything in particular about any real members of SMAP. May contain traces of nuts.
> 
>  **Thanks:** to my beta, Muffinbitch.

Nakai Masahiro was thirty-three years old, and he was starting to think that he’d already had every sexual fantasy it was possible to have. He was alone in his hotel room, tired from the concert, and wanting to get to sleep so he wouldn’t be too tired tomorrow. First, though, he wanted to come.  
The problem was his brain, which seemed to be fresh out of ideas. He had been between girlfriends for more than a year now and it had been at least three months, off the top of his head, since he’d had even casual sex. Naturally he’d been taking matters into his own hands – frequently – but in doing so it seemed he’d exhausted the limits of his imagination. Away from internet access and from his usual collection, he had to fall back on his own resources. Which, apparently, were somewhat lacking. He was bored with the usual suspects – and the only thing to combat sexual boredom, Nakai thought, was to up the ante. Wilder, dirtier, and more unusual – that was the way his fantasies had been going of late. It had been working, to an extent... but what could he use today? Something he’d never thought about before... hmm...  
Nakai sighed. It was no use – surely, in the privacy of his own brain, he’d done everything that even vaguely appealed to him that he could do with a woman –  
With a _woman_.  
What about with a man?  
He’d never fantasised about a man. He wasn’t sure he wanted to – in fact, he felt somewhat confronted at the idea – but he welcomed that feeling. He had shocked himself. Mission partially accomplished.  
But – no. As if he actually wanted to fantasise about a man! It probably wouldn’t work even if he tried, surely.  
Nakai turned over and tried once more to sleep.

The next night was worse. Nakai was very tired, very awake, and very frustrated indeed.  
The idea from yesterday returned to him and, in desperation, he entertained it. Could it work? Would it work?  
Well. Only one way to find out.  
Yes, Nakai decided – he _would_ try.  
The question now was who. What man could he possibly fantasise about? He tried to think of someone, but cycling through the options was starting to make him lose his nerve. So he decided to leave it up to chance.  
“Okay,” Nakai told himself. “I’m going to turn on the TV. And the next halfway attractive male celebrity I see who’s within ten years of my age - I have to fantasise about him.”  
Nakai often made deals with himself of this kind, and was superstitious about following the results to the letter. He was convinced that whatever fate dealt out, that was what the universe wanted him to do.  
Nakai grasped the remote control firmly in his hand, feeling his heart begin to beat faster with the thrill of chance. He squeezed his eyes shut, pushed the button, and opened his eyes.  
No.  
No way. No fucking way. No way in hell was he going to think, while he jerked off, about Goro. Goro was in the same band, was in the _next room_ , was completely unaware of the thoughts Nakai was having right now... It was inappropriate, it was kind of disgusting, and it was definitely perverse.  
And Nakai had an erection.  
He swore, three times over, and reached down.

It was easier when he did it for the second time, three months later at one o’clock in the morning, his belly warm with wine, wistful and lonely and impatient for sexual satisfaction.

After the third time it became a habit.

It didn’t seem normal, exactly, not yet – and Nakai was glad of that, because a sense of normality would have robbed it of its allure. But it seemed less bizarre and more justifiable now. Okay, sure, it was Goro, who was occasionally gormless and danced badly and was unmistakably male. But the idea of Goro slipping out of his customary guardedness and his fashionable designer clothes to lay his elegant hands on Nakai – well, it worked. Nakai was the practical type, and he usually stuck to what worked. It didn’t even really bother him much, that he was now regularly fantasising about a man, because he was sure it didn’t mean a thing. It was a way to jolt him into feeling something. It was just imaginary. His daily interactions with Goro did not change.

That is, until the following tour.

Nakai was coming when he heard Goro calling through his hotel room door, “Nakai-kun, are you in there?”  
Hell of a way to ruin an orgasm. Panic flooded through him, every delicious after-image of sensation converting instantly to pure fear. He hurriedly straightened his clothes, screwed up the piece of paper he’d been holding, pitched it at the bin and rushed to the door.  
He wrenched it open. “What!?”  
Goro raised his eyebrows slightly at this rather unfriendly welcome, but supplied the reason for his visit quite cheerfully. “My hairdryer’s broken, so I’ve come to borrow yours.”  
Nakai stood in the doorway, breathing hard. “ _Now_?!”  
“Is that okay?” Goro smiled ingratiatingly and slipped past Nakai and inside, heading for the bathroom.  
“No!” Nakai said belatedly, starting after him.  
“What do you mean, no?” said Goro from the bathroom. He sounded amused. There was a clunking sound as he fished around in the cupboard.  
Nakai reached the door, only to see Goro putting bits of wastepaper back in the bin – “Sorry, I knocked this over.” At this, Nakai dived on him.  
Goro squawked in protest as Nakai shoved into him, yelling incomprehensibly and grasping at him, trying to get him in a headlock.  
“What the hell is wrong with y–”  
“DON’T OPEN TH– ”  
Outraged by Nakai’s behaviour, Goro clung tightly to the piece of paper, wanting to find out what the hell was worth having such an ungainly scuffle over. He elbowed Nakai in the ribs, propelling him back, and flattened out the piece of paper triumphantly.  
Nakai released him and leaned back hard on the glass shower door, putting his hand over his eyes. But then he had to peek through his fingers to see Goro’s expression upon discovering that the disputed item was a picture of _himself_.  
Goro’s eyes widened. His mouth hung open in shock. Slowly his gaze dredged up from his own own semi-naked image to Nakai’s huddled form.  
Nakai could tell that Goro was coming to exactly the right conclusion, and he wanted to curl up and die.

It was never quite the same after that.

After that, Nakai found himself being especially cruel to Goro on stage and screen, mercilessly bullying him in the hope that this would somehow cancel out the other thing, leaving them more or less as normal. But Goro just smiled and put up with Nakai’s nastiest jokes, their barbs unable pierce his soft, vague aura. And Nakai could no longer pretend, either to Goro or himself, that this wasn’t happening.  
Because it was happening. Still.  
He had tried to forbid himself from doing it, restricting his fantasy objects to the various women who had peopled his imagination since he was first old enough to think that way. But every so often he would be halfway through, his inhibitions gone and his logic half-melted, and he would find that the phantom hands that caressed him were Goro’s hands, and the sensual mouth that loomed in his mind was Goro’s mouth. And he would swear, and stop, and try to start over, but once it had happened the whole thing was a write-off. It was Goro, or nothing.  
He usually chose Goro.

It was May when he met Harumi. He caught sight of her gloriously long legs at a club and went up to say hi. Her sequinned skirt was only slightly more dazzling than her smile.  
She was nine years younger than him. He had no idea whether his celebrity was part of the attraction and he didn’t care. She was a live, warm, attractive human being – a female one – who appeared to enjoy interacting with him sexually. And when Nakai was with her, he never, ever thought about Goro.  
It lasted slightly under a month.  
She was finding him a little intense and wanted to see less of him. He argued she was taking it too lightly and wanted to see more of her. He pretended, to her and to himself, that he was heartbroken.  
He continued to fantasise about her for two weeks solid, until one night she kind of, well, _morphed_ you might say.  
Nakai cursed Goro outrageously, wishing him ill luck and ill health and weight gain and fashion faux pas. It didn’t help.

It was the middle of the Love Awards, and Nakai was pretty sure he was going to lose. He’d done a lot of stupid things that year. But who was going to win? Shingo seemed to be doing well, and his batsu game was for the loser to act in a sketch of Shingo’s design... Nakai didn’t like the sound of that.  
And then Goro said what the loser would have to do for his batsu game. “Drink wine with me,” he said, looking straight at Nakai. “Just the two of us.”  
Nakai’s eyes went round. He shook his head wordlessly. He was clearly appalled, and the audience (along with the other SMAP members) thought it was hilarious.  
Nakai stammered and made excuses and tried to play it down and tried to go on with the show, his normal, genki self. But it was hard when Goro was giving him unfathomable looks beneath his lashes during ad breaks.  
To the surprise of nobody, Nakai lost.  
To the surprise of many, Goro won. He beat Shingo by a single point.  
Afterwards, Shingo clapped Nakai on the shoulder. “Not to worry,” he said cheerfully, “I’ll just pitch my sketch to the SmaSma producers, we’ll probably end up doing it anyway.”

They had a meeting the next week with the staff writers about what “Nakai and Goro drinking wine” was actually going to entail.  
“What were you thinking of, choosing such a boring batsu game?” demanded Nakai. “How are we going to turn _that_ into entertainment?”  
“Oh, I think it will be interesting,” said Goro quietly.  
Nakai suppressed a shiver.  
“What did you have in mind?” asked one of the staff writers.  
“Well,” said Goro, and paused – he had to think about how it would be _televisually_ interesting – “It would be a sort of candid video diary kind of thing. Very low-key. Just me and Nakai having a conversation... I don’t think the viewers have seen that before.”  
“True,” the writer said thoughtfully, “but as a batsu game...”  
“As a batsu game, it sucks,” said Nakai baldly.  
“Well, the way I see it, we can do this one of two ways,” said the head writer, Atsushi. “We either play up the distance or we play up the intimacy.”  
“Intimacy?!” squeaked Nakai.  
Atsushi nodded decisively. “Yes. We do a ‘love-love’ type scenario, where Goro-san acts romantically towards Nakai-san to comic effect. Or, play it as if the two of you have absolutely nothing in common and drinking together is torture. Either of these could be funny, in my opinion.”  
“Both of those sound perfectly appropriate,” said Goro, smiling faintly at Nakai.  
“Which do you think would be better, Nakai-san?” asked Atsushi. “Too intimate or too distant?”  
“Distant,” croaked Nakai.

Nakai was on edge for the remainder of the week. Day and night, Goro obsessed him. At work, he spent a lot of time looking for Goro’s sidelong glances, his sly smiles, the way he would brush past Nakai accidentally-on-purpose. Nakai desperately wanted Goro to stay as far away from him as possible, and also to cleave to him so that every possible part of their bodies would be touching. In his off hours, he brooded, speculated, and fantasised about one topic and one topic only: Inagaki Goro. 

The day of the batsu game filming arrived.  
Nakai stepped over the threshold. As he bent down to take his shoes off he saw that Goro didn’t even have socks on, and blurted out, “Your feet are naked!”  
Then he was terrified that everyone watching would know he was just thinking “naked naked naked” so he started making a big deal of how unhygienic it is not to wear socks.  
“It’s my house,” said Goro calmly, and padded into the kitchen.  
“Completely unhygienic,” said Nakai to the camera. “Lucky I have socks to protect me from his foot diseases.”  
Naked naked naked.  
The tiny three-man camera crew followed him down the hallway.  
In the kitchen, Goro was pouring dark red wine into glasses, his plain white shirt effortlessly elegant, his hair as always styled to within an inch of its life. Nakai pulled his beanie a bit further down his forehead and tugged nervously at the drawstring of his hoodie. “Careful,” he said, hoping to spook Goro, “you don’t want to spill wine on that white shirt.”  
Goro just smiled, and didn’t spill a drop.  
Nakai gazed around himself at Goro’s modern, minimalist kitchen, all clean lines and burnished dark metal. “How come this kitchen is so clean? Do you ever actually cook here, Goro?”  
“Sure,” said Goro. “All the time.” He held out a glass, looking at Nakai with an air of pleasant expectation.  
Reluctantly, Nakai took it.  
They sat down to drink at the kitchen table. Nakai made deliberately awkward small talk, and wished Goro would fulfil his role better. He was acting far too comfortable for Nakai’s taste.  
“So…” said Nakai idly. “Bought any good hair magazines lately?”  
“Yes, well actually I bought quite a good one last week…”  
Nakai suppressed his amusement that Goro had taken the crack seriously, then listened with increasing boredom as Goro talked him through the minor points of a controversy about ingredients in leave-in conditioner. He was glad to be bored, though. It would make for good television.  
Then he thought he felt something with his foot.  
He wondered if Goro had left something under the table, but then he felt it again – it was moving.  
It was Goro’s naked toes gently brushing against his ankle, and it was the most subtly erotic thing he’d ever felt in his life.  
“…don’t you think?”  
“Eh?” Absorbed in attempting to regulate his breathing and keep his expression neutral, Nakai had completely stopped listening.  
Goro smiled. “Never mind. I’m probably boring you.”  
“Oh, not at all!” protested Nakai, but he couldn’t help grinning a bit.  
“What about you, how are all the variety shows going?”  
“Good, good,” he said, attempting to sound casual. “ ‘Iitomo’ is going… good… and ‘Black Bara’ is going… um. Going. Going good.”  
Goro’s foot was sliding up his calf now, pushing up the leg of his pants, insinuating itself underneath, naked flesh to naked flesh. Nakai’s famous ability to talk, talk and talk more was completely shot.  
All he could hope was that the awkwardness would be funny.  
Still, the red wine was warming him up and loosening him up, making him care less about how this was going to turn out. He found himself wondering what would happen if the camera crew weren’t there.  
He finished his glass and Goro poured another for each of them, then said, “Shall we?” He gestured towards the lounge room.  
Nakai shrugged. “Okay.”  
“Aaand cut!” said the director. “We’ll just go in first to shoot you coming in from there, if you don’t mind…”  
With the camera’s eye off him, Nakai wiped his brow. He was sweating, although it wasn’t overly warm. He could feel Goro’s gaze still on him.  
After the crew had rapidly repositioned themselves, Nakai headed into the loungeroom. Then he felt Goro’s hand gently pressing on the small of his back to guide him, and almost dropped his glass.  
 _That sneaky bastard!_ thought Nakai. _Doing it where the camera can’t see…_  
He quickly regained his composure, chose an armchair, and went to sit down – but leapt up at the last second with a yelp. “The cat!!”  
Goro went and scooped up the grey furry bundle, giving Nakai a scolding look. Then he settled himself on the couch, putting the cat on his lap and stroking it with soothing hands.  
Nakai sat lamely in the armchair he had chosen and looked from the cat’s inscrutable orange eyes to Goro’s inscrutable brown ones. “Stop ganging up on me!” he said resentfully. “You’re both staring…”  
Goro chuckled. “Don’t be like that, he likes you.”  
“He does?”  
“Well. He would if you showed him any attention.”  
Nakai regarded the elegant grey cat with suspicion. It was purring and blinking at him.  
Goro stroked it rhythmically. “Want to have a go?”  
Nakai shook his head. “No. Maybe. Well, okay.”  
“Come sit here, then. I don’t want to disturb him and make him jump away.”  
Nervously, Nakai approached the cream leather upholstered sofa. He gingerly sat down next to Goro, who without delay transferred the cat to Nakai’s lap.  
The cat stood up, turned all the way around, then sat down again. Apparently satisfied with its new position, it began a loud and steady purr.  
In amazement, Nakai patted it gently on the head. “Kawaii…” he said, admitting defeat.  
“Isn’t he?” said Goro, for a second every inch the proud parent. He reached across Nakai’s lap to stroke the cat.  
Nakai stared at Goro’s hand and tried hard not to think about what this would be like if the cat were not there.  
He had to end this situation, and soon. How could he end it?  
Aha…  
He stroked the cat slower and slower, then, after a suitable amount of blinking and yawning, flopped his head to one side, pretending to be asleep.  
“Nakai-kun,” said Goro, beginning to suspect. “Nakai-kun. Nakai-kun!”  
“And… cut!” said the director. “That’s just great.”  
“But he’s passed out,” said Goro, sounding put out.  
“It’ll edit together well. Very funny, I should think.”  
And with the appropriate amount of bowing and pleasantries, the crew packed up their gear and left.  
Only then did Nakai open one eye. “Are they gone yet?”  
“So you are awake!” exclaimed Goro, loudly enough to scare the cat into jumping off Nakai’s lap.  
“No,” contradicted Nakai with ill grace, “I’m asleep.” He stood up and brushed cat hair off his knees.  
“You’re not leaving?”  
“Yes, I’m leaving! You’ve been weird and creepy all night, and I’m going home.”  
“What did I do that was weird?” asked Goro innocently, standing up to face Nakai.  
“Your foot was – ” Nakai protested, “it was – it – ”  
And suddenly Goro was all around him, arms around his waist and shoulders, black hair sweeping into his field of vision, dark eyes gazing with intensity down into his own. Goro moved to within two inches of him – and then stopped.  
Waited.  
Abandoning the last vestiges of his sanity, Nakai closed the gap.  
He kissed Goro desperately, hungrily, over a year of imaginings and speculation rising up within him, feeling Goro’s intense but controlled response, the shock of his body against him, until he suddenly pushed Goro away and shouted, “What the hell are you doing?!”  
Goro almost laughed. “ _You’re_ the one who _kissed me_!”  
“I didn’t!” Nakai declared, contrary to the evidence. “Why would I want you? You’re pretentious and self-obsessed, and you’ve got a big wide head. And besides,” he added, “you’re _male_!”  
Goro smiled gently and moved closer to Nakai once more. “It’s been a long time,” Goro said, “since I’ve paid attention to what you say rather than what you do.”  
And he leaned forward and kissed Nakai again, slower this time, softer, before he drew back. “But if you ask me to stop now,” he said, “I will.”  
The moment drew out as Goro waited, his face serious, and Nakai teetered on the edge of his dilemma.  
Then he took a deep breath, looked Goro in the eye, and said, “Don’t stop.” And he stepped bravely forward, towards Goro and into the future.


End file.
